Spar
by Blue Tears
Summary: One Shot: A little sport between Alexander and Hephaistion. Slash


**Title: **Spar

**Paring:** Alexander/Hephaistion

**Summary:** A little sport between Alexander and Hephaistion.

**Prompt: **Middles.

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer:** So not mine. So never happened.

**AN: **Written very strangely, and definitely not in my normal writing style.

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**Spar**

Copper and iron, the sickening metallic taste filled is mouth, staining his teeth.

Stop.

Deep red blood trickled out of the corner of the young man's mouth, black and blue livid bruises already blooming along the skin of his neck and chest. Hardened bone and toned muscle became a dead weight in his slight body, exhaustion dulling the ability to maneuver properly in his own skin. However, the young man managed to slip out of the tight grasp the older, taller opponent had on his smaller frame.

Pause.

His ragged breathing halted abruptly, the thick air caught in his throat as he ceased all movement. The granules of sand burned pinprick blisters onto the underside of his bare feet as he stood still, his full weight pressing the callused skin against the loosely packed ground. A sheen of sticky, warm sweat clung to the ruddy flesh stretched across the curved line of his back. Short golden strands of hair plastered against the sides of his face, curled at the ends by the damp perspiration. Eyes wide and wild, glazed slightly with the need to control, posses his adversary, he felt the pulsating blood course through his veins, pumping surges of searing adrenaline through his entire body, igniting the tips of his fingers and flushing his face an angry red. The trapped air burned his lungs as he slowly let out the breath through his nose.

Think for a split second.

A subdued tremor racked through his lithe body, muscles rebelling against the command to be still, so unused to inaction. Warm air filled his lungs once more as he drew in a short breath. Tense hands trembled as he bit back the instinct to barrel on ahead before considering all aspects.

Between the start of the sport, and the inevitable outcome that much follow, there needs to be a strategy in order to reach the desired end.

The means.

Vision swimming with splotches of murky white infused with glimpses of reality in shimmering color, he tried to furiously blink away the fatigue and beads of sweat clouding his line of sight.

Sense the next move.

Gaze transfixed on the other man's body, he took in the other's taut thigh muscles straining and relaxing beneath golden flesh. An odd glint just beneath the calm glaze keeping the young man's probing eyes away from seeing inside his mind, shifted the natural blue haze of the opponent's until it resembled a darker hue. He watched closely, the twitch at the corner of the other's lips, the beginnings of a twisted smile, a tongue darting out to lick harsh, chapped lips, an old anxious habit.

The lean body of the challenger was so familiar to all his senses; sound, scent, sight, touch and taste.

Prey upon his weaknesses.

One the thick muscle swelled slightly larger than the other, the dominant leg. The damaged flesh, discolored and bruised scored along his opponent's collarbone and shoulder from the young man's advances.

Favors the right.

Suddenly he lunges forward, moving towards the other man's right side. Fingers slipped over the wet skin of the opponents shoulder. His thumb pressing hard against the teeth marks on his collarbone as he pushes ahead, struggling for control. The pressure faulted. His opponent saw the attack coming, caught the split second flash in the young man's eyes as he flinched before advancing. And the young man was falling, spun around and slammed against the cold stone of the wall with the body of the opponent pressed close against his own. An intense heat, surpassing even the sweltering temperature of the midday sun, rages through his body. Hips matched up and ground down against his as his eyes bore into the smaller man's. Lips, thin and frosted over with dried skin, harsh and wholly masculine once more crush against his, tasting blood and sweat and salt. The low moan pours from his mouth before he can stifle it, the sound distinctly forming the other man's name.

Submission.

A haughty smile not often seen upon the taller man's face splits open the small cut on his lip, still pressed against the young man's mouth.

"I will, one day, Hephaistion." Alexander murmured in his companion's ear, a low purring voice that almost succeeds in breaking Hephaistion. Fingers threaded through darker hair that still shone in the harsh sunlight with flecks of vibrant copper.

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**AN:** Thank you for reading! 


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